MacarOnly You
by MintaMeeta
Summary: Sex, drugs, murder, and macaroni! It's like the 1970's all over again for the CSI's on one magical Christmas Eve.


TITLE: Macar-Only You: A Tale of Love, Murder, and Beach House-Themed Lockers  
AUTHORS: Marita Linde and Amber.  
RATING: PG-13, for language and un-PC digressions.  
SPOILERS: "Ellie." "Lady Heather's Box." "Crash and Burn."  
PAIRINGS: Grissom/Sara, Catherine/Warrick, Nick/Greg, Sara/Hank, Grissom/OMC, Sara/OMC.  
SUMMARY: Sex, drugs, murder, and macaroni! It's like the 1970's all over again for the CSI's on one magical Christmas Eve.  
ARCHIVAL: Ask.  
DISCLAIMER: These characters are so not ours. Except Hattie, but no one would fight us for him.  
AUTHORS' NOTES: Written December 19-20, 2004, and January 2, 2005. Oh, and there's character death, if the title and summary didn't make that clear.  
Marita: Well, the time had come for us to write another one of these things. As usual, Amber was the actual funny one who didn't need any alcohol or illegal substances to write anything remotely funny. I, however, stopped writing because the pot ran out.  
Amber: Marita was funny, too. In fact, she had me giggling at two in the morning the night we started this. A normal person may have studied the night before a final, but no, I knew what my priorities were. This was much more worthwhile, and I hope you'll all agree. (And thanks, Marita, for another great writing experience.) 

And now we present, for your reading pleasure...

**Macar-Only You: A Tale of Love, Murder, and Beach House-Themed Lockers**

Catherine stared out her office window at the city sprawled across the desert. She sighed.

It was Christmas Eve, and she was in the desert. She missed sleigh rides across the ranch while snow fell on her shoulders and she laughed and snuggled beneath her mother's quilt.

Or maybe that was something she saw on _Little House on the Prairie_. At any rate, she missed the snow.

Before she could start thinking about any other snow scenes from really bad/old TV shows, Warrick sauntered in and flashed her a smile. She blinked wildly and screamed in pain, fearing her retinae had been damaged. Strangely, even though she knew she wouldn't be able to open her eyes for the next 4 1/4 hours, she still couldn't fight her strange sense of attraction towards him.

She stumbled out from behind her desk, waving her hands in front of her. "Warrick? Where are you?"

"Woah!" she heard at the moment her hands made contact with his body. His hand wrapped around her wrist and moved it about two feet up. "There ya go."

"Thanks, Warrick. Didn't mean to grope you there," she lied, "but I'm having a bit of a vision issue."

"No problem." Fortunately, she couldn't see his smirk.

"So," she said, casually letting her hand drop lower and lower, "Like... what are you doing for Christmas?"

He tried to think of the most impressive thing to say. "Um, well, actually, I'm going to hand out sweaters to homeless people, and then I'm going to adopt a few cats." He shrugged, as if adopting cats came easily to him. "What about you?"

She was about to say, "getting drunk at a family party" when in walked Grissom, wearing a Santa hat.

"Who's there?" Catherine called, moving her hands to a slightly more appropriate region of Warrick's torso.

"Old Saint Gil," Warrick replied with another unseen smirk.

"'Saint Gil'? I don't know what lines Grissom's been feeding you, but he's not--" Grissom cleared his throat. "He's not a proponent of cat adoption," Catherine finished lamely.

"He's not?" Warrick feigned shock and turned to Grissom. "You bastard. How could you deny their unconditional love?"

Grissom was about to answer when Sara walked in.

Unfortunately for Grissom, Sara had overheard, mostly because there's just a lot of overhearing going on in this story.

"Grissom, how the hell could you not be a proponent of cat adoption? Yesterday you told me you had adopted 457 cats!" She looked really angry, like she always does, so Grissom figured it was probably best not to let her know that he had just told her that to get her in the sack.

"I just told you that so you'd have sex with me." He never was too bright when it came to women, that Grissom.

She slapped him like they did in those old movies where people slapped each other and walked out of the room. Grissom turned to Catherine and Warrick for support but found them making out, so he just talked to his hat instead, which was way cooler anyhow.

"Mr. Hat, why doesn't Sara love me?"

The hat stared.

Grissom sighed.

"Because you're emotionally distant and have used her for sex for more than a decade."

"Oh."

"Yeah, 'oh.' Moron." The hat could totally talk, because this is a Christmas story and thus must have some ridiculous and unnecessary supernatural element.

"If only I could make her talk to me again, I could explain that I'm emotionally distant because I had an absentee father. Alas, her shift ends in fifteen minutes, and I won't see her again until after I have spent another Christmas day alone. Another year closer to death, I'll sit in my apartment and talk to my butterflies and cry over the notebook she dropped in my office all those years ago."

"Dude, you're pathetic," the hat said. It paused a moment, scrunched up, then said, "There. A Christmas miracle, all for you."

A moment later, Greg could be heard running down the hall. "Whee, it's snowing!"

Grissom quickly put the hat back on and totally let his inner child shine through as he joined Greg in the hall. Warrick and Catherine continued to make out.

Brass saw Grissom and Greg running down the hall screaming and so naturally he joined them. When they got to the end of the hallway they met up with Nick, who was staring listlessly out the window. "Guys, I actually had a friggin date, and now it's snowing so hard out there I can't see anything out my car window!"

Grissom, Brass and Greg just stared, so Nick started crying and went off to find Warrick. Brass shrugged and tried to open the door so he could make a snowball and put it down Grissom's pants, but the door was frozen shut! (Scary music!)

"Odd..." the three mused, then ran into Grissom's office to look at porn. Ahem, I mean, educational bug stuff.

After five minutes of porn-viewing, the computer screen was covered in pop-up ads that cruelly covered "all the best bits," as Greg complained. Still, he declared this porn binge on the taxpayer's dollar the best Christmas present he had ever received.

Just then, Nick shuffled into the room. "I thought you said that CD holder I bought for your Tahoe was the best Christmas present you ever received," Nick said sadly. The revelation that Greg valued porn more than vehicle accessories broke Nick's heart, but he had cried all that he could cry. Now he was just horny. "Darn you, snow," he murmured.

"Snow!" Grissom suddenly yelled. He remembered the hat, which was not difficult to do as it was still perched on his head. "Excuse me, I have a hot chick to woo." He paused, then the hat constricted around his skull. "Ow! I mean, a dignified woman of intelligence and beauty."

"That's better," the hat muttered.

Grissom went off to find Sara, who was sitting in Catherine's office behind the computer. When Grissom walked in she immediately exited out of like 500 windows and put on a huge fake grin. "Hiiiiiiii, Gil, what's up?"

Grissom frowned. "Not much. I just wanted to say I was sorry for... you know, that thing."

Sara just really wanted him out of the room so she could keep looking at her version of educational bug stuff, so she was like, "No, it's okay, don't worry about it. I didn't think it was humanly possible for a guy to adopt 457 cats, anyway."

Grissom smiled. "So we can have sex again, right?"

She waved her hand, not paying any attention to what he was saying, so he left the room whistling, totally thinking he was getting some. He even told the hat, who really didn't give a shit.

"She even called me Gil, did you hear that? She doesn't even call me that in the middle of our wild moth sex. It's as if we're turning over a new leaf." He paused. "Get it, Hattie? A leaf, like moths land on."

"She doesn't love you for your sense of humor, that's for sure." The hat considered a moment. "Actually, she doesn't love you at all."

"Yes, she does. Or she would, if I'd let her. She's like one of those kittens I never adopted. She just needs someone to guide her in life and teach her how to have healthy human relationships, and then she'll spend all her days curled in my lap, eternally grateful and wanting nothing but to please me."

While the hat nearly exploded from the need to ridicule, Catherine tapped Grissom on the shoulder. He turned and smiled a goofy, lovestruck grin, but it quickly disappeared when Catherine laid the feminist smackdown on him. "You chauvinist!" meanwhile, Grissom curled up so that Hattie took the brunt of Catherine's anger. Poor Hattie.

Hattie kind of curled up into the fetal position (as much as that is possible for hats) and started sucking his non-existent thumb while Catherine yelled and yelled. Then there was much rejoicing when she was finally done yelling and had walked away, and there might have even been high fives involved.

Grissom went off into a corner with Hattie and they laughed and played hopscotch in the break room together and skipped through meadows while happy friend songs played in the background. They even shared a cup of coffee (it burned poor Hattie), and they shared talks about childhood and told corny knock-knock jokes. It was much fun.

Meanwhile, Greg was making a present for Nick, and it wasn't anything like the crappy CD thing Nick had gotten for him.

Nick walked over to Greg's lab and leaned on the counter casually. And not, like, that faux casualness that says, 'Look how casual I am. You know you want to sex anyone this casual.' It was just genuine casualness, the kind that says, 'You're my friend and I'm comfortable around you and thus shall act in a comfortable, casual manner.' Greg was sad, because he wanted Nick to be sexy casual, thus giving him an opening to confess his undying love.

He had been trying to make this confession on his own, but the glitter wasn't sticking to the construction paper right, and it was all a mess.

"Whatcha making?" Nick asked curiously.

"Nothing." Greg swept the card from the desk, and it landed on the floor.

"You dropped your card there." Nick bent to pick it up, and he found a perfect 'gerG ,evoL !ybab ,samtsirhC yrreM' written on the tile in glitter. "What does 'gergevol ybab' mean?"

Greg snatched the card away from him and muttered something under his breath that Nick heard as, "I love you", but he heard that in everything Greg said because you always hear what you want to hear. So he just shrugged and walked as slow as he could out of the room, giving Greg ample time to say, "Stop!", except he didn't because he was still trying to figure out the glue and glitter thing. So Nick started crying again.

Back in Catherine's office, Catherine had totally come in to kick Sara out so she and Warrick could get it on, but instead she found a dead Brass lying in a pool of blood.

"None of us is ever going to get laid. Stupid case-based format. Curse you, CBS!"

"What are you babbling about?" Warrick asked, walking up behind her and munching on a green apple because one of the people writing this story totally has a green apple kink. He spotted Brass's body. "That's not cool," he said suddenly. "That's so not cool that I don't even want to take another sexy bite of my sexy fruit," but he did anyway. Swoon.

"Well, we better get started," Catherine said, rolling up her sleeves.

"Yeah," Warrick agreed, unbuttoning his shirt.

"Um, Warrick? Not what I meant."

"Curse you, CBS," Warrick muttered, hastily rebuttoning his shirt but leaving the top few unbuttoned because whee, chest!

Catherine got out her camera that she had magically in her jeans pocket and started taking pictures of Brass's body, the blood around Brass's body, etc. After a while she got bored of that, so she and Warrick posed with the body and made funny faces and she took pictures of that, too. Then she got out her kit because she wanted to be productive and also because she thought her kit made her look all professional and cool.

Grissom walked in eating a really big piece of pork, because he isn't sexy at all and therefore does not get to eat sexy fruit. "Whatcha doing?" he asked, munching.

Warrick had to ask Catherine first because he forgot, but then he answered, "Oh, Brass's dead, gotta figure out who did it." He rubbed his chest a bit because it seemed like Grissom hadn't really noticed that it was showing.

Grissom was totally mesmerized by Warrick's sexiness, but he snapped out of it after a moment. "Dammit, why Brass? He was my only friend."

"Hey!" Catherine and Hattie yelled in unison.

"What happened here?" Sara asked. She stepped into the room and saw Grissom. "Why are you eating that? I thought you loved me!"

"I do, but not enough to give up unsexy meats for you!"

"I bet you Greg wouldn't give up unsexy meats for me, either," Nick said sadly from the doorway, but everyone pretended not to hear because even the recent shift shakeup had confirmed that Nick and Greg had a love that dare not speak its name, not that loves speak anyway. Stupid cliche.

Everybody was thinking about their own stuff and were really quiet when all of a sudden, out of the silence, came a voice like that of God. "Hey guys!"

Sara raised an eyebrow. "I know that voice..." she said, and then Hank appeared in the doorway.

"Hank!? What the heck are you doing here? I thought we broke up, like, two seasons ago!" Sara yelled. "And how did you get here? Isn't there a storm outside?"

Hank's shoulders deflated and he mumbled, "I've been living in your locker, Sara."

"That's so romantic," Sara declared, her eyes filling with tears. "Grissom would never live in a locker to make me happy."

"He couldn't even fit in the locker, because he's not buff like me."

"He's really not," Warrick agreed, rubbing his chest to emphasize that he had buffness rivaling that of Hank.

Sara was immune to Warrick's buffness except that one time, so she ignored him and started to unbutton Hank's shirt. "You're really hot. And I can sleep with you, because you're not in the opening credits."

"Woot!" Hank said, picking Sara up and carrying her down the hall to the locker, which he had redecorated in a very nice beach house theme.

Grissom gave this really sad look, and then he started to unbutton his shirt and follow them down the hallway, but Catherine stopped him and just shook her head. "What?" asked Grissom, "is my chest not sexy or something?"

Catherine shivered. Warrick shook his head with wide eyes. Greg and Nick threw up simultaneously. Grissom still didn't get the hint so he asked Hattie, who turned the other way so he wouldn't have to answer.

They could hear some metal-banging sounds from down the hall, which made Grissom cry. He asked Hattie if he wanted to play Monopoly with him, but Hattie was now making out with random lab-techy chick and couldn't hear a friggin' word Grissom said.

"Greg," Nick said tentatively.

"Yes, Nick?"

"Well, Greg, we just threw up simul... simultan... at the same time."

"Well, Nick, we had universal inspiration there."

"Oh." Nick looked disappointed. "I thought it was because our minds, souls, and bodies were perfectly in sync."

"Nope, just the sight of Grissom's chest."

"Oh." Nick sighed and walked away.

Hattie pulled away from the random lab-techy chick long enough to hit Greg. "That was your chance, moron!"

"You're abusive," Greg accused, sighing.

"Nope, I'm complicated. Wait four seasons, and they might bother to give you some backstory as to why."

Grissom walked into his office and shut the door. He started to look at his old scrapbook full of random things: _Harry Potter_ fan fic he wrote last week, some photoshop pictures where he stuck his face on George Clooney's body, etc. Suddenly, Sara walked in and she looked distressed.

"Grissom!" she yelled, "you'll never believe what just happened! Me and Hank were about to have sex, but then I got this sudden craving for a Twinkie, so I went to go get one and when I got back he was dead!"

Grissom was confused. Why was this a big deal? Sara answered his question almost immediately.

"And he totally fell on my only copy of _Vegans and Butches Weekly_. I really want to read it. What do I do?"

"Here, take mine," he said, fishing it out from under his pile of Backstreet Boys posters.

"Thanks, Grissom!" She accepted it gleefully. "Why'd you have this?"

"Well," he confessed, "I bought it to try to better understand you."

"Aww, that's sweet." She patted the top of his head where he totally had hat hair, then skipped away with her magazine.

"Skipping isn't very butch," he muttered. Sara Sidle was the most confusing coworker/student/lover he ever had.

Warrick and Catherine were still processing Brass's murder when Sara skipped in to tell them the good news: Hank the Skank was dead! There was much rejoicing. Then Catherine told everyone the evidence she had found having to do with the savage murder of Brass, which was pretty much nothing except that she thought Hattie did it.

Hattie wasn't at all offended by this and only sat smugly in his chair, grinning. Because hats are really good at doing things smugly.

When Warrick had finished wrapping Brass's body in cellophane wrap he turned to Catherine and started rubbing his chest again, which everyone knows is Warrick-language for, "Let's go make out in the closet".

"Let's," Catherine said aloud, and she and Warrick left. Sara and Hattie stared at one another, then they embraced passionately because they were both in love with Grissom but were incapable of handling their feelings in a more mature manner. Because hats are really immature, and Sara just has issues.

Meanwhile, back at Greg's little lab thing, he and Nick were making pictures out of glitter and construction paper. Nick made a puppy, and Greg drew the old night shift gang.

Nick sighed. "If only I had some macaroni, I could make an awesome picture."

"I have some Easy Mac in the break room!" Greg said happily.

"Yay!" Nick said.

"Yeah, they don't let me leave here to eat very often," Greg said, less happily.

"Whee, macaroni!" Nick said.

Greg just decided to let go of his sadness and embrace the happiness that is macaroni, so they went in to the break room. Greg reached out to the cupboard to get his Easy Mac at the same time Nick did, and somehow this led to them passionately embracing and then making out. Yay. Everyone cheered because they are so in love and it's about friggin' time.

Meanwhile, Grissom and Sara were now at Hank's body and were seeing who was best at bouncing a quarter right into his mouth. So far Grissom had eleven points and Sara had one, mostly because Grissom was like, right above the body and was totally cheating OMG.

"You're totally cheating, oh em gee!" Sara glared.

"He cheated first," Grissom pointed out.

"Oh. Then he deserved to be murdered."

"I suppose we have learned the high price of infidelity," Grissom said, and they each took a moment to consider the wisdom of these words and to be thankful that it wasn't a stupid pun.

"Wait, don't we learn that every week?" Sara asked, and Grissom shushed her. Shushed her with his mouth! On hers! With the kissing!

Catherine and Warrick were totally making out in the closet, and despite a few mishaps where Warrick thought the broom was Catherine and started talking dirty to it, things were going well. Then, suddenly, the door to the closet opened and through the blinding, heavenly light came Eddie.

"Eddie, what the hell?! I thought you were dead!" Catherine screamed, wondering how much more of this shit her retinae could take.

"I am," Eddie said, in a very zombie-like voice. His clothes were all tattered and he was all ugly and purple, like most zombies, except his hair still totally rocked. "But I have come back to life for this brief moment to teach you a lesson."

"What's the lesson?" Catherine asked, only slightly afraid because she could have sworn she saw Eddie drip gross zombie guts on her new shoes.

Eddie stared at her, smiling, and was about to tell her when he got pulled out of the closet by something, and the door was slammed shut. Catherine and Warrick looked at each other, shrugged, and started making out again.

"Aren't you curious what the lesson was?" Warrick asked.

"Probably just something about infidelity," she said before pinning him against the wall and having her dirty way with him. Which, in Warrick's opinion, is the best way she has with him.

On the other side of the door, Nick and Greg, covered in glitter and disheveled, discovered the body of Eddie's body.

"Dammit," Nick muttered. "This was a boring case the first time."

"Let's have cookies instead of investigating," Greg suggested.

"Yay!" Nick apparently agreed, and they skipped away together.

Meanwhile, Sara had finally gotten sick of making out with Grissom so she just made love to him on one of the evidence tables instead. This involved a lot of M&Ms and some spaghetti. Not to mention a TV playing _Harry Potter_ in the background to keep Grissom focused. Not because of the way Snape looks, just because of his voice. Cough. It's soothing.

So then all of the sudden Ecklie was just kind of THERE, and by 'there' I mean standing in the doorway of the break room stealing all of Greg's cookies, and since we hate him he only gets, like, five seconds in the story. From behind him came a hand, and then an arm, and then there was some grunting as the person was obviously having some trouble getting his whole arm around Ecklie's neck, but once he'd succeeded he pulled Ecklie out of sight. No one paid attention to the screams, because Greg just wanted cookies and Grissom just thought they were his own.

Grissom's totally a screamer during sex. Sara sometimes wonders exactly what her entomologist lover thinks a moth sounds like. But I digress.

Greg was handing out cookies to all of his friends, and he got to Ellie and gave her cookies even though, OMG, she's a dumb twit. "What are you doing here?" he asked acidly even as he grinned and filled her mug with more hot cocoa.

"I heard my old man croaked, so I thought, you know, what the hell, I'd come out here in a snowstorm if it meant stealing a few twenties from his wallet."

"Oh, okay," Greg said, moving onto Nick's mug and filling it lovingly. Lovingly because Greg really likes that mug, not because he and Nick are in a super hot gay romance. Because shh! Ellie doesn't know.

"Wait," Grissom said, and the others all looked up expectantly. "Hattie caused the snowstorm."

Everybody gasped, only because they thought that was what they were supposed to do, and Warrick and Catherine even stopped making out in the closet long enough for Catherine to say, "So, do you think he killed Brass, Hank, and Zombie!Eddie?"

Grissom totally nodded, except he was in the middle of sex and so it was hard to do. And plus, everybody was in different rooms, but they could still hear each other, because Nick had totally installed walkie-talkies into the walls of every room in the entire building.

Hattie just grinned. "This is totally like the time I had a one-night stand with the sorting hat from _Harry Potter_," he said, "except completely different." He just wanted to brag about that so he could make Grissom sad; it didn't really have anything to do with anything.

"It really was Hattie," Catherine declared. "I found a white cotton fiber on Brass's body." Had Grissom not been in the middle of blisstastic sex, he might have pointed out that this was, like, the ultimate example of manipulating evidence to fit a theory. He didn't care right at that moment, though, and poor Hattie was locked in the coat closet because we don't need no stinkin' warrant. Hats don't have Constitutional rights. Hats and a lot of people.

BUT I DIGRESS.

Nick and Greg were being totally cute right then, doing cute things like stringing macaroni onto necklaces and presenting them to each other. They were frickin' adorable. And everyone took a second to go "aww" before returning to their respective sexing. Greg and Nick continued to express their love through pasta.

Suddenly from the left side of the building came a loud scream, shrill and, like... really annoying. Everyone kind of tilted their heads, even Hattie, because he so has a head, and stopped what they were doing for a brief moment.

"Who the hell died this time?" Catherine asked aloud, really annoyed, but she kept making out with Warrick because he's so hawt and she just couldn't keep her hands off of him! Warrick let her because God knows he's never really cared about his job and so why should we start making him look like he does now?

The others went to investigate, because they lack the sexual stamina Catherine and Warrick possess by benefit of their hawtness. When they reached the scene of the fourth murder, Greg let out a terrible howl of grief.

"Not the new lab tech girl no one cares about!" he cried.

"I didn't know you two were close," Nick murmured, pulling Greg into what was a totally platonic embrace, at least to the unknowing eyes of Ellie, who doesn't realize when she's unwelcome, which is, like, always.

"I didn't, but now I'll have to be the lab tech no one cares about again, and you and I won't be able to..." Greg trailed off, then finished, "um, play poker anymore."

"You two have a poker game going?" Warrick asked, approaching the group and buttoning his shirt. "Cool. We haven't addressed my gambling addiction in a while."

It was hard for Greg not to get sucked into the hawtness of Warrick with his shirt unbuttoned, but he succeeded because of the love for Nick that rested in his heart, and more and more corny things you usually only find on Lifetime movies, but surprise! they're in this story. Nick pulled Greg away from Warrick and said, "It's only for us" in kind of a snotty way that made Warrick cry.

Catherine pulled another white fluffy piece off of the lab techy, who by the way was killed in the coat closet, and shook her head. "If I cared at all, I'd totally say Hattie did this." Then she went off to have more sex with Warrick.

"If Hattie was locked in this closet, and he's not here now, where is he?" Nick asked. His eyes were wide. He looked pretty upset at the prospect of the killer being on the loose again, because Nick has issues that are right up there with Sara's but less annoying because he doesn't take them out on his friends all the time, so... um... No, not happy with the murderer being on the loose.

"It's okay, Nick," Greg said. "I'll protect you."

After everyone finished laughing at cute little Greg, they decided to split up in total stupid horror movie fashion to find Hattie. Grissom went with Sara, and Nick went with Greg, and Ellie was left to her own devices, as has been the case her entire dysfunctional life. "With any luck," Grissom told her, laying a fatherly hand on her shoulder, "you'll meet the same fate as all pretty young girls dumb enough to be alone in a slasher film."

"Can I borrow fifty bucks?" she asked, oblivious.

"No." And the groups diverged at a path in the corridor, where Nick and Greg took the hall less traveled by, which made all the difference.

Grissom and Sara were walking down the hall, Grissom talking about the bug references in certain scenes of _The Lord of the Rings_, Sara fantasizing about Grissom in a leopard-skin thong and pink sunglasses. Soon they met up with Catherine and Warrick, who had totally gone down the same hallway as them, and they all walked in slow motion and flipped their hair a lot so they could seem like they were super heroes.

Meanwhile, Greg and Nick were tickling each other and chasing each other down the hall when they came across a pool of blood. Greg immediately began to scream like crazy. None of the others paid any attention when they heard this, however, because they just assumed that since Greg and Nick were alone together that they'd be having wild monkey sex. "Nick, it's blood!"

"Well, of course it's blood, Greg!" He gave Greg this look that said, 'how could I not know that, I'm a CSI!' but he and Greg both knew that he had not known it was blood, because he is in fact a thick-headed dumbass.

"Remind me why I love you again?"

"Because I remind you of all the boys you wanted in high school but could never have because they were too busy flushing your head down the toilet and shoving you in non-beach house-themed lockers to give you the time of day."

Greg stared. "Excuse me?"

"But it's okay," Nick hurriedly explained, "because you remind me of all the boys I couldn't have because I was intimidated by their intellect. And you nerds were mean, too, always calling me a 'dumb jock' behind my back. I'm barely dumb, you know." If they had been chatting rather than speaking, Nick would have been all "colon, open parenthesis" right then.

"I think Ellie's dead," Greg called over his shoulder. He had already moved on, both figuratively and literally.

Nick didn't hear him say this, though, because he had already moved to the other end of the hallway and was doing an interpretive dance for the security cameras. Greg was tempted to watch him, but his responsibilities, a.k.a. his need to not be a lab techy, called to him and he decided to investigate the case.

He walked over to Ellie's body and proceeded to do everything wrong, like dumping a few gallons of ice water on the body and then cutting out random pieces of her shirt for his scrapbook. In the meantime, Hattie walked up and was pointing and laughing at Nick telling his life story by way of interpretive dance. Apparently he had never experienced the pain of sticking his hand too far down the drain, but Nick had.

"You don't even have hands," Nick pointed out suddenly, stopping right in the middle of a complex tap number, which never should have been in an interpretive dance in the first place. Slowly, painfully slowly, the light of realization dawned on Nick's would-be-handsome-if-his-hair-grew-back face. "If you don't have hands, Hattie, you can't be the murderer!"

"Yay," Hattie said. Hattie's really understated and plays it cool like that.

"Yay," Nick agreed, pulling Greg into a hot kiss as the camera faded to black because no in in CBS's audience wants to see that. Well, not most people, anyway. Some of us do. But dammit, that's another digression.

"Whee!" Grissom was saying when the camera opened on the next scene. He and Hattie were riding a roller coaster Hattie had constructed in the break room with his magicness.

Catherine and Warrick walked in, looked at the roller coaster with a bit of envy, and proceeded to make out on it. Grissom and Hattie kept riding the roller coaster until Dave, a.k.a. the coroner, walked into the break room. Everyone fell silent, because nobody expected him to be there since he isn't ridiculously good-looking or having sex with anyone on the show.

"Shut up, everyone!" he screamed. Everyone wanted to shut up, except they hadn't been talking, so they couldn't. Sara, Nick and Greg suddenly appeared in the room. Dave cleared his throat. "Okay, so you're all the worst CSI's I've ever seen!"

They all murmured their agreement.

"You all make lameass puns constantly, and I only do it, like, once a month, at most."

Again, no one could argue.

"I'm good at my job, I have a kind heart, and I totally have the nicest voice of anyone here. And yet, I am hardly ever shown. And why is that?"

"Because you aren't ridiculously good-looking or having sex with any of us, like the narrator said?" Nick never did know when to be quiet.

"That is part of it," Dave the Elder Coroner agreed, somewhat taken aback by Nick's having been correct about something. "But the main problem is not that you super attractive nymphomaniacs get too much screen time. No, the problem is" -- he paused dramatically -- "poorly characterized guest stars!"

Greg let out a gasp and fainted.

"Woooooow," Warrick breathed, in awe of the intelligence of the coroner. He nodded his head a few times and walked up to Dave. "I respect you, man," he said in a choked voice, and then he sat down. Everyone was surprised because wow, Warrick really didn't respect anyone, and they could tell he was lying. Dave tried to fight off tears and shoved Warrick away.

"I killed all those people! I did, I did!!!" Dave's screams echoed through the building. It took everyone a few minutes to get it, but then they all nodded. Except, of course, Nick, who had no idea what was going on and was slightly mesmerized by a stray piece of macaroni Greg had left on his shoe.

"Well," Grissom said after a few minutes, "you won't be charged with anything in zombie!Eddie's death. You're allowed to kill zombies."

"Really," Catherine agreed. "I mean, we all killed a zombie or two in our college days."

"Good times," Sara said. She and Grissom had met during a zombie hunting expedition, in fact, and once they had vanquished the undead, they had wild sex in the burned out remains of what had once been an art museum. Those silly scientists and artists, never respecting one another's work. It was really good sex, though. She pulled her mind back to the present. "And I'll take the fall for killing Hank, and no jury will convict me because he was obviously a dangerous stalker. I mean, he lived in my locker."

"What about Brass and Ellie?" Nick asked.

"Family feud," Catherine replied coolly. "Besides, who's going to book Dave if Brass is dead anyway?"

"Congratulations, Dave," Grissom said. "You did a service to our series, and now you're free to continue your life, whatever the hell it consists of."

Everyone nodded, because really, it was true, and Greg and Nick even hugged in the happiness of that moment of sharing and togetherness.

Dave started screaming something about how even when he murders he can't get through to these dumbasses, and left the break room. But not before stealing one of Greg's cookies, dammit. Everybody smiled and laughed, and made out, and punched each other lightly, and then they were off to go and waste more taxpayers' money by looking at porn on Grissom's computer.

* * *

_Six months later..._

"I'm really glad that we're super hawt and gay," Nick whispered to Greg, "because Grissom and Warrick don't seem very happy about their impending fatherhood."

Greg giggled, because he was blissfully happy in their love, and because he had just smoked some awesome weed from the evidence room. "I'm happy with just you and our 457 kittens," he agreed.

"Speak of the devils," Nick said as the break room door swung open. "Here come the suckers now."

Grissom and Warrick came into the room, holding something behind their backs.

"Whatchya got there, Grissom?" Nick asked curiously, like the five year old boy whose brain capacity he so obviously possessed.

"Babies!" Grissom said excitedly, producing said offspring from behind his back with a flourish.

"So that's where babies come from," Nick said in wonder, peeking at the back of Grissom's shirt.

Grissom nodded, because he thought that, too, and Warrick nodded only because he didn't want the others to feel stupid, but he really knew where babies come from because he's hawt and sexy.

Catherine and Sara walked in and took the babies from them. Catherine was all cute and mothery with hers, because she'd had a baby before, but Sara sort of held hers like ten feet away from her body and screamed a lot whenever it touched her.

Warrick was in the midst of telling Greg how the baby was a real babe magnet when Catherine suddenly proposed to him. He was all flustered and shit and so he accepted, and then there was some magical confetti and making out and cake and stuff. And Greg might have cried.

Oh, let's be realistic. He was crying more like a baby than either of the babies was.

"I've never been one to do things just because it's the norm," Grissom began. He waited for the snickering to fade away, then continued, "but we may as well get the 'buy two, get one free' deal at the wedding chapel. So Sara, will you marry me?"

"Will you take care of this cry-y thing for me?" Sara asked.

"Yes."

"Yes, then, fine, a wedding, wonderful."

"Yay," Grissom replied. Marriage meant sex, like, all the time, he thought. Silly Grissom.

"Wait a minute," Nick said. "What do you mean, 'buy two, get one free'? Who else is getting married?" The others all stared at him, because Nevada is totally, like, a magical state, and for the purpose of this story permits gay marriage in addition to prostitution. Whee, party state!

"You are," Grissom said in that same stop-being-a-dumb-shit voice he used that time he told poor Nicky that his maggot was defective.

"But I like my bachelor lifestyle," Nick whined. Because ramen noodles are the shit, y'all.

Greg rolled his eyes. "What bachelor lifestyle? You haven't had a date since that prostitute, and you've been sleeping at my place since your lease ran out three months ago."

"Oh, yeah."

Dave, who was just hanging around, drinking coffee, sighed. "I liked Kristy. She was a developed, likable character." And he wandered down to the morgue to reminisce about the good ol' days. We won't hear from him anymore.

"We better not cheat on each other," Grissom said sagely as the screen faded to black and the credits began.

"Grissom, you're supposed to end on a pun," Nick reminded him.

"No, no, this is one of those episodes in which we impart wisdom and a strong moral lesson," Catherine clarified. "It is a holiday special, after all."

"Oh." Nick sounded relieved.

Grissom and Sara's prodigy baby cooed, "God bless us, everyone."

-Fin-

(Then Without a Trace started, and everyone was glad because they need their angsty, sexy federal agents now that the X-Files has been cancelled.)


End file.
